Today we came back from another long walk and I felt very tired. In part, I’m sure, because every day this baby gets lower, and lower, and that makes walking more and more….interesting. I truly felt myself waddle today, without being unable to rein it at all. I just went with it. I embraced the waddle.
But last night I didn’t sleep well. I was up for hours. My belly had just been henna-ed by Emi and I was full of lovely dinner and cake. I ended up watching Ava sleep for a long time (it never gets old) and enjoying the active bumps and kicks and wriggles that occur during the night.
When we returned today, I was ready to rest. And I lay on the bed in that mid-day dream-like daze that I love so much, when the skies are bright and blue. One of my favourite things in life is dozing or napping on such days, and I thought about all the memories I have of doing so in different places, each one strung together by this common feeling of being deeply relaxed, in fact, almost meditating, and in such a state of grace that everything just seems like a perfect fit for that suspended moment in time.
That grace – it’s the only word I can think of to describe that feeling, and yet I don’t mean it in a religious sense at all. I mean simply a state of being, a state of such connectedness that it simply feels as if everything is right, everything is as it should be. The way you felt lazing on the grass at lunch, at school, with friends. The way I felt in America, dozing on the lawn of the house I lived in, listening to a compilation made my Love, and knowing I was just where I wanted to be.
There’s a story I read during that time and I believe it was actually called ‘Grace’, or something like that (not the one by James Joyce) – but it was so beautiful. I’ve often wondered where I could get hold of it again, I would so like to re-read it.
I don’t always sleep during these times, but today I did, and I woke up feeling so incredibly rested, but slightly out of it. After four days of just the three of us, doing lots, spending time with one another, I am so ready to meet this little boy of mine, and feel certain that he is close to making an appearance. And I know it could happen at any moment – every surge, every twinge could be the start. But I am doing my best to stay as much in the moment as possible, enjoying these last days, the new light that fills our living room in the evening, and making a quilt for Ezra in colours I imagine him suiting just fine.